


His Name Was Rath

by intaspend



Category: Original Work
Genre: Asexual Character, Emotional Outbursts, M/M, Misunderstandings, Police Pressure, Underage Relationship(s), age gap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23169187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intaspend/pseuds/intaspend
Summary: A changing point in a young man's life.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 2





	His Name Was Rath

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this near a year ago when I was still in high school and had Anger^tm. I didn't quite finish it then so if the end sounds really different- that would be why.

His name was Rath.

It got him odd looks, but he was proud of it.

It sounded powerful, which is everything he wanted to be. Everything he wasn’t yet.

For now, he was just 17. An Adult labeled a child by prejudice and unfair laws.

He got a job ‘It’ll teach him responsibility. How to handle money’.

Like he hadn’t learned from watching his father drink their entire family into oblivion. He bought nicer clothes with his own money. His only splurge. The rest went to savings or food.

‘He’ll grow up to be a fine man one day’

Like he wasn’t one now.

He recognized what he lacked: experience. He could not be as good at anything as someone who had done it for 10 years, not yet. He did not have as much practice in controlling his emotions, in diplomacy, in anything.But how did that make him, someone who tried, someone who recognized his own faults and tried to fix it, less of an adult, less of a man than the shriveled pathetic crying mess of a human being that was his Father? How did it make him less deserving of respect than the man who had left them with crippling debt and then had the gall to cry and beg and plead with them all when Mom kicked him out?

He was incapable of understanding how a number could decide that man was more mature than he was.

He took a deep breath. That had been a year ago, the night that his Mom had found a final eviction notice shredded in the trash bin by mere chance.

Now, he was sitting at the police station.

Not in handcuffs.

No, no, he was the _victim_. Made out to be a victim because of a mere year’s worth of time. If he was two years older, no one would have a problem with the five year age gap between him and Alexi. 19 and 24 is somehow far less scandalous then 17 and 22.

The policeman kept coming back. His partner, a young woman probably just a couple years older than Alexi would talk with him outside the door before he entered. The man brought drinks, and blankets, and food. He accepted them, of course, because he’d always found it silly that someone would not accept a thing freely given, for as long as you are aware of the intent to manipulate it will do nothing but make you a little less miserable.

So the man thought he was making progress.

Building a ‘rapport’ with the poor, young, 17 year old boy who put on a suit and thought that made him mature enough to be in a relationship with a man without being toyed with.

It just made him hate the man. Not enough, it seemed, to throw vile words or actions at him. The man meant well, he could see it in his eyes. The police officer was a _good man_.

He thinks that might be the thing that disgusts him most.

They kept pushing him to turn against Alexi.

“If he did anything to you, anything you didnt want, you can tell us. You won’t be in trouble.”

“I know he said he loved you, but men like that. They lie. They lie honey, and protecting them only lets them keep lying to you.”

He could imagine, if Alexi had done anything wrong, how the blankets and the cups and the kind faces might have convinced him to spill.

But Alexi hadn’t done anything wrong. Not a thing.

They had rarely even kissed over the last 10 months, and only ever at Rath’s insistence that it was fine. That he wanted to.

Hell, Alexi didn’t even want sex. He was okay with kissing, but Alexi had made sure Rath knew beforehand that even had Rath been the older one, Alexi wouldn’t have wanted sex.

Alexi had told him, secretly, secretly, that he was sure that a simple google search could tell him where he went wrong. Why he didn’t feel that way. That someone would tell him it was okay, and that it happens to others too, so many that there's a word for it. He had said ‘ _I long to tell someone that about myself and have them tell me ‘me too.’ And hear ‘me three’ then four then five._ ’

He said that he was afraid of disappointing the ones who had told him over and over again that he was brave for being gay.

His blood had always boiled when Alexi told him that story.

About how Alexi had come out as gay, and so many people told him being gay was so brave.

Like it was a choice.

Like love was a choice.

He’d asked Alexi why he thought that knowing that would cancel out all the pain he had gone through.

‘ _I’m terrified of being wrong. Of looking, and finding that I’m not whole. That there is no one there to say ‘I have felt this too, and it has not made me broken, it has made me whole.’ I’m so afraid I feel like I will freeze._ ’

He reminds himself of what made him happy, of why he was choosing to remember that night.

He’d taken Alexei’s hand then, and when the fear in his eyes melted away, Rath was stricken by how beautiful he’d looked, gazing with such affection in his eyes.

That had been two months ago, and also the moment he’d realized he was in love.

Alexi was unarguably the only good thing in his life for the last almost year they’d been together.

He wallows in the thoughts. They don't make him feel better.

His Mom had turned spiteful and bitter. She worked, many more hours than him. She would not let him get a second job, and it was clear she still cared, but being around her was no joy. His elder sister, the eldest, had inexplicably taken Father’s side. She refused to call from her college anymore. She refused to help their 14 year old siblings. Twins, but not identical.

Darren just. He stared. He didn't say much, and if he did it was to Flower, his sister. Flower had chosen her name. She never explained it. She hated him, because she was the only one who was supposed to acknowledge Darren. The only one allowed to say hello. Even Mom only showed her knowledge of his existence when she made food or picked up essentials for him. He had refused. He would speak to his brother, whether it upset his spoiled brat of a sister or not. He helped feed her, after all.

Alexi coming into his life had been like a spot of starlight in a night sky where every other light had burned to a crisp a long, long time ago.

The door opened.

He didn’t look up, but he recognized his Mother’s footsteps. He braced himself, ready for a slap, or a lecture. She’d likely been at work. He’d done his best to get them not to call, but they didn’t listen.

He really hadn’t been expecting a hug.

It occurs to him, belatedly, that he probably looked pathetic. He was staring into an empty mug with a horrid yellow blanket thrown over his shoulders on a shitty chair in a police station, and he hadn’t yet gotten around to buttoning his shirt up, and that probably wasn’t indicative of the boiling rage he was really feeling inside.

“Rath, oh Rath I’m so sorry,” his mother was crying, oh god why was she crying, “I’m a horrible mother, I didn’t even realize anything was wrong, I’m so sorry.”

He can’t exactly blame her for getting the wrong impression, as she had probably only heard the police’s side of the story, but it still makes him angry. He stiffens, his hands clenching around the mug in his hands.

“Mom, you’re a fine mother. The police have the wrong idea, I don’t know what they told you but nothing is wrong,” He spits out the last word with more venom than he meant to. He doesn’t regret it, but the look on Mom’s face right now is… It’s not something he ever wanted to see.

She’s pitying him. Pity. She pulled back a little, her hands are now on his arms, and he just wants her to stop touching him.

He is not a child. He stopped being a child the first time he realized the real reason his Father couldn’t remember what his name was.

“Oh, honey, I know it seems like that, but men like that, they’re just like Dad. They tell you what you want to hear so that they can keep taking advantage of you.”

Those words ring in his ears, louder and louder, building his anger, up and up until he can barely stand it. Alexei, _his Alexei_ , just like that disgusting pig of a man? His beautiful, wonderful Alexei, who always insisted on buying his coffee, and always gave him treats for the twins, because he knows how much Rath cares about them? The Alexei who held him close whenever things were too much, the only one he had been able to cry with for over a decade?

He sees red. Pure red. The mug in his hands shatters. There’s a horrid noise ringing in his ears. A terrible racket, he can’t tell if it’s laughing or sobbing. It takes him until air catches in his throat to realize it’s coming from him.

He’s breaking down. This is too much.

“Why can’t I have one good thing?”

He sucks in a breath, letting out another horrible, howling sound. He’s still not sure if he’s laughing or crying.

“One, single, private, good thing without something ruining it?”

He looks up at his mom, eyes pleading, searching for something, anything, some answers.

Anything.

“He’s never ever done a single bad thing to me. He makes me happy, and I do the same for him. What we’re doing isn’t even illegal! I dumped coffee on myself and he let me borrow a shirt, why won’t you believe me?”

He can barely breathe.

“What did I ever do that was so untrustworthy? So unworthy of faith! I thought I did everything right! So why does everyone just keep taking? Tell me, Mom, because I’d like to know!”

He stops, panting, waiting for an answer.

She looks speechless.

Her eyes have tears in them. She looks terrible. She doesn’t respond.

That makes him angry.

He stands, his chair clattering to the ground.

“Fuck this.”

The gasp Mom lets out is probably reflexive, he doesn’t curse much. Not even around Alexei.

“I’m going home, and unless they’re arresting Alexei for giving me a shirt and having a guest over, so is he.”

He’s up to date on his legal rights, and that’s why he didn’t leave earlier. They had the full right to stop him before his Mom was here, due to him being y’know 8 months shy of legal adulthood. He stomps out, his Mom trailing like a kicked puppy behind him. There's an officer by the door, who he whirls on. He looks new. Scared.

“Are you arresting or detaining me?”

The boy- for this was a boy, lacking in both confidence and maturity- sputters, but sounds negatory.

“That's a no, then. Are you arresting Alexei?” The boy lets out a long uhhh that Rath doesn't bother staying around to hear the end of.

His Mom is saying something to him, it doesn't matter, he doesn't care.

He stalks down the hall, looking for another room with a guardian posted on it. They'd be trying to get Alexei to admit to raping him or some other horrid lie, and they wouldn't want him to interfere.

The officer outside the door looks like she has some semblance of self-assurance, so perhaps she will be possible to deal with.

“Hello Officer,” He's mad, not incompetent, “I'm looking for information about Alexei Drago, He was brought in today and I would like to know if he's being detained or charged, and for what reason.”

The Officer glances at the door behind her- score. Alexei is here.

“He's just being questioned at this time.”

“Alright, then I would like to talk to him,”

“He's not to have visitors at this time”

“So he's being detained.”

“No,-”

“Then let me talk to him.”

“Rath, I don't think-”

“Yeah, you don't sometimes,” He keeps talking before his Mother can make another attempt, “Look, Officer, I know the law. If you aren't detaining him and you’re done questioning him, then we are within our rights to leave. So I'm collecting him and leaving, unless you want to take this to court”

She looks at him for a few seconds, and he sees another flash of pity. His blood boils, but she steps aside so he can't help but let it go. No choice. Annoying, but no choice. He enters the room.

And there's Alexei.

Beautiful Alexei with his deep chocolate eyes, his crooked smile, his hair that's so curly every time Rath tries to run a hand through it, it gets stuck.

He smiles automatically when he sees Rath. It was one of Rath's favorite things, that smile. He got so lost in it.

But now wasn't the time.

He takes Alexei by the hand and leads him out. He’s smiling. Rath almost smiles just from the stupid grin on Alexei’s face as he drags his love out of the police station. Irritatingly enough, his Mother is still following them. Alexei is here, so it’s alright now.

She waits until they’re in the parking lot to make her next move.

He understands. It’s a terrible understanding. It nearly consumes him. He knows exactly how they look. Exactly how the thought process goes through another person’s mind.

As his Mother’s hand wraps around his, his eyes close. He fights against the raging storm inside.

He loves her, after all.

He pauses.

“Rath,” She’s choking up, “Let’s go home for now, please?”

He snaps. He hadn’t gotten the emotions all boxed up yet, and the prodding had unsealed them all again in an instant.

“You say that like it’s a request! Like if I say no, I won’t end up right back here with Alexei on kidnapping charges!” Alexei squeezes his hand, dragging him out of his rage.

He looks over, and Alexei gives him a small signal to go with his Mom.

He squeezes their joined hands again, smiles, says “I’ll see you soon, Rath,” and walks off.

Rath watches him go. Waits until he’s out of sight before turning back to his Mom.

“Sorry, Mom. I shouldn’t have snapped. Can we talk about this at home?” He keeps his eyes on the ground, growing more and more ashamed of the way he snapped at her, “I promise I’ll explain everything properly, and I wasn’t going to keep it a secret forever- I was going to bring him over for Christmas and- and- Can we just talk, please?”

She’s not smiling, but she reaches for his hand again and nods. She doesn’t look happy. But she doesn’t look angry. In the end, she’s his Mom.

She pauses, and glances down at their hands. She gasps, “Oh my god, Rath, have your hands been like this the whole time?”

He glances down, utterly confused. Ah. His hands are bleeding, practically sliced to pieces.

“Oh, it must have been that cup you shattered, come on, get in the car, we need to go treat your hands, and then we’ll talk.”

She leads him to the car, and they treat his hands, and they talk.

That’s how all true change starts after all. By talking to each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Kinda looking for constructive criticism on this one- it feels really good when I read it so outside perspectives would be helpful. 
> 
> ...  
> Also I'm fully aware the ending is forced lmao.


End file.
